


Patients/Patience

by magician



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Bingo, Challenge Response, Chicken Pox, Domestic, M/M, Sentinel Bingo Card, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magician/pseuds/magician
Summary: A friend needs some TLC.





	Patients/Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2018 Sentinel Bingo Challenge. No prompt--it was a Wild Card space.

"It's all right, Daryl, don't worry about it.… Yes, of course I'll call if things change.… No problem. Just focus on school; we'll be fine.… Okay, 'bye."  
  
Blair went into his former bedroom and pulled a duffel bag out of the closet.  He carried it upstairs to his and Jim's bedroom and started packing clothes--enough for a week.  He walked down and put the bag by the door.  He closed his laptop and placed it in his backpack.  He pulled some books from the shelves and added them to the pack.  His cell phone and charger went in next.  He went to the kitchen and collected some power bars and cheese and cracker packets and added them to the pack with a couple of bottles of water.  He was just zipping up the pack when Jim walked through the door.  
  
"Great timing, babe.  I was just about to call you." Blair walked up to Jim and gave him a long welcome-home kiss, then hugged him.  
  
"Not that I'm complaining, Blair, but that kiss seemed to have some extra meaning to it other than 'I'm glad to see you, love of my life'.  What's up?"  
  
Blair sighed.  "I just got off the phone with Daryl.  Simon's sick."  
  
"He didn't come in today, and Joel didn't know why.  What's going on?"  
  
"He's got chicken pox."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Yeah, shit.  He's at home now and someone needs to take care of him.  Daryl just started summer session at Northwestern.  Besides, he's never had chicken pox, so it's better if he's nowhere near Simon while he's contagious."  Blair put a hand on Jim's arm. "I volunteered to do it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Blair shrugged.  "There's really no one else.  Joan is out of the picture and he doesn't have anyone else to do it.  I've had chicken pox, so I can't get it again.  I'm not teaching this summer; the only Rainier commitment I have is to develop next semester's syllabus.  I'll have to miss a week or so coming into the precinct.  And, of course, I'll miss being with you."  
  
"I'll come with you.  I can help.  I've had med--"  
  
"No way.  It doesn't matter whether you had medic training while you were in the Army.  That's fine for monitoring concussions or taping someone's ribs.  You've never had chicken pox and it's highly contagious. I'm not even going to come home until I'm sure he's no longer contagious and then I'm going to wash all my clothes and scrub like I'm going into surgery.  I don't even want to think about how miserable you'd be if you got them."  
  
"When did you get chicken pox?"  
  
"I was three.  Fortunately, I don't remember it, but Naomi said I was miserable.  She kept me bathed in calamine lotion. I still have a scar or two somewhere." Blair waggled his eyebrows.  "We can play 'find the dots' when I get back, if you like."  
  
Jim pulled Blair into his arms.  "I like playing anything that involves you naked in our bed."  They stood in the embrace for a minute, then Jim asked, "How did Simon get his?"  
  
"Dunno," Blair said, his voice a bit muffled as he talked into Jim's shirt. "I guess I'll find out."  He separated.  "I guess I'd better go.  I'll call when I get there."  
  
"Okay.  Let me know if you need anything.  I can pick up groceries or meds and leave them on the front door."  
  
Blair smiled.  "Thanks, babe."  He picked up his backpack and duffel bag. "Oh, hey, dinner's in the oven. Chicken Parm."  
  
Jim tapped his nose.  "Yeah, I know.  Aren't you going to take any with you?"  
  
"Nah, I'm not hungry.  I've got some power bars in my backpack."  
  
"Okay, just don't get run down taking care of Simon." With that last bit of advice, they kissed goodbye and Blair left.  
  
*****  
  
Blair sighed as the sound of a tinkling bell summoned him for what felt like the hundredth time, although it was probably only five or six this morning.  _Patience_ , he said to himself, as he rose to answer the summons.  
  
The first three days of Simon-sitting had gone quite well, mostly because he did little more than sleep, with the occasional trip to the bathroom.  Blair had pushed fluids on him, generously dabbed the endless dots with calamine, and checked his temperature, which hovered around 101F.  Not enough to take him to the ER, but enough to keep checking regularly.     
  
But this was day four; the fever had broken, and Simon had been awake more often and was whining.  Okay, not exactly whining, but not soldiering on, either.  Blair could see he was miserable but had few options at his disposal to help.  Jim had come by faithfully every day, bringing bags of juices, Gatorade, and soups; chicken soup from Langer's deli, split pea from Anderson's and hot and sour soup from Wang's.  Simon hadn't been in the mood to eat, so Blair enjoyed the largesse.  He and Jim touched each other on opposite sides of the front door glass and talked every day.  He missed Jim.    
  
Blair sighed again and put his game face on.  He walked into Simon's bedroom, which was looking a bit shabby.  He hadn't picked up, not wanting to disturb the patient, and made a note to do something about it.  "Hey, Simon, what's up?" he asked in a soothing tone.  
  
"I'm hot, I'm itchy and I'm bored," Simon responded testily.  "There's nothing on TV."  
  
Blair smiled.  "Nothing? Really? '57 channels and nothin' on'?" At Simon's uncomprehending look, Blair continued, "You know, Bruce Springsteen?... Never mind.  Let's see what we can do to fix you up."  
  
"We? You sound like the nurses at the hospital. 'How are we feeling, Mr. Banks'; as if they were feeling it too."  
  
_Believe me I'm feeling the pain_ , Blair thought to himself.  "Well, _we_ are going to collaborate on making you feel better.  First things first.  I'm going to run you a baking soda bath and you'll soak in it.  While you do that, I'm going to pick up a little."  Blair started the bath, then came back with Gatorade and a thermometer.  After taking his temperature--a miraculous 99.5--Blair handed Simon the drink.  "I'd rather have coffee," Simon grumbled.  
  
"Okay, I'll make some while you're soaking."  
  
Simon obediently took a slug, then made to get up and managed it with only a little support.  Blair started picking up washcloths, towels and discarded pajama tops and stripped the bed.  He grinned when he heard Simon's groan of relief as he got into the tub.  He re-made the bed, then took everything to the laundry room.  He came back and opened the curtains and sliding door to let in some fresh air.  He picked up various bowls, glasses and the bucket he'd used to wet cold compresses and took them all to the kitchen, then started the coffee.  
  
By the time he came back with a mug, Simon was standing in boxers, waiting for Blair to inspect and treat the pox.  As Blair applied the calamine, Simon drank from his mug, sighing in satisfaction.  
  
"These are actually looking better.  How's the itching?"  
  
"Better, thanks."  
  
"Are you hungry?"  
  
Simon looked surprised.  "Yeah, I could eat."  
  
"All right.  How about some scrambled eggs and toast?  Easy on your stomach.  Or would you rather have soup?"  
  
"Eggs sound great."  
  
"Good.  How about you call Daryl while I get started?"  
  
*****  
  
"Do you want to watch a little TV?" Blair asked as he picked up the tray from the side table next to Simon's bed. "I'm sure there's a game somewhere on ESPN."  
  
"Nah, watching it hurts my eyes."  
  
"Why didn't you say something?  I'll get you some acetaminophen.  Do you have some sunglasses around?"  
  
Simon pointed to his dresser and Blair brought them to him.  He shook out two tablets and handed them to Simon with juice.  Then he closed the curtains to the sliding door, but left it open with only the screen closed.  "Try to get some rest."  
  
"I'm not tired," Simon said, with that almost-whine back.  "What are you doing out there?"  
  
"I'm doing research for my syllabus in the fall.  I'm re-reading the diaries of past anthropologists, comparing and contrasting what we do now with what they did then.  Right now, I'm reading Richard Burton." Blair sighed. "They made a lot of mistakes, not least of which was how they treated the so-called savages they came across."  
  
"Sounds interesting."  
  
The penny dropped. "Would you like me to read some of it to you?  You could read it yourself, of course, but your eyes are hurting."  
  
"Yeah, that would be good."  
  
Fifteen minutes after Blair started, Simon was fast asleep.  He didn't take it personally and went back to his notes.  
  
*****  
  
Blair woke up to the smell of coffee.  After a moment of disorientation, he realized he was in Daryl's bed, still fully dressed from when he must have dropped from exhaustion.  He walked into the kitchen where a much-improved looking Simon was waiting by the coffee maker.    
  
"Nice bed-head, Sandburg," Simon drawled. "You hungry?"  
  
"I could eat. Let me clean up a little and I'll start breakfast."  
  
"I can handle it," Simon said, as he poured two cups and handed one to Blair.  "I think you need more than a little time to clean up."  
  
Blair took a large swallow and grinned.  "You're sounding a lot better."  
  
"Yeah, I think I'm on the mend." He pulled up his pajama sleeve to show Blair.  The spots had indeed started drying up and shrinking.  "I think I'll be able to take care of myself from here."  
  
"Trying to get rid of me already?" Blair joked.  "Okay, but you could still be contagious, so stay inside for a few more days.  I'll do a load of laundry and a grocery run before I leave.  Make a list of what you want."  With that, he headed for the shower.  
  
*****  
  
With a last burst of hovering, which got him kicked out with Simon's gruff--but heartfelt--thanks, Blair headed back to the loft.  He'd called Jim at work, giving him strict instructions that he wasn't to come home for at least two hours.  
  
Blair took all his clothes and the duffel bag and put them in the hamper, then took another shower, making sure he scrubbed well everywhere.  After he dressed, he added the towels and bathmat to the hamper and sprayed down the bathroom with disinfectant.  He took the clothes down to the washer, tipping them in with detergent and some liquid Lysol for good measure.  When he came back up, he sprayed disinfectant on his backpack to be safe.    
  
Next, he defrosted steaks, put together a salad, then threw a couple of potatoes in the oven.  He sliced mushrooms and sautéed them with butter, garlic and wine; they would top the potatoes.  Once they were done, he turned off the gas and went down to load his clothes into the dryer.  He came back up and unpacked the rest of his backpack.  Since the potatoes needed another half hour, he settled back to continue his university work.  
  
Blair was just coming down from putting away the clean clothes when he heard the key in the door.  He sped down the stairs and straight into Jim's arms.  "God, I missed you," he declared.  
  
"Hey, don't prove it by breaking your neck on those stairs," Jim chided. "I missed you, too."  He sniffed. "Smells good."  
  
"I just turned off the oven; we're having steak, salad and twice-baked potatoes.  But we're starting with hors d'oeuvres." He tugged Jim towards the stairs.  
  
"Let me shower first," Jim protested.  
  
"Forget it. I want you now and you smell delicious.  Shower later."    
  
Jim let himself be chivvied up the stairs.  
  
*****  
  
They were drinking the last of the pinot noir on the balcony, watching the sun set on their city.  "Dinner was great," Jim said.  "Those hors d'oeuvres weren't bad either."  
  
"Count on you to give higher praise to a steak than sex with me," Blair groused.  
  
"Well, I don't get steak nearly so often, so--"  
  
"Continue that sentence and sex could become scarcer, too."  
  
Jim scooted his chair closer and put his arm around Blair's shoulder. "The hors d'oeuvres were _great_ , _superb_ , _primo ,_ and dinner wasn't bad, either," he said with a smirk.  "I heard Simon's going to be out another week.  I thought I wouldn't see you 'til then."  
  
"Well, he's well enough to take care of himself, but he still might be contagious.  He wanted to spare anyone else the hell he went through."  
  
"Thoughtful.  Did he ever figure out where he got it from?"  
  
"Yeah.  He was visiting his mom and his aunt came over.  She had shingles and somehow he must have touched her rash."    
  
"Crap.  I bet she feels bad."  
  
"I don't think he's told her. Anyway, it was bad, but it could've been worse.  I think he recovered well because he's generally healthy."  
  
"Well, Daryl's really grateful.  He's bringing us back something special when he comes in a couple of weeks."  
  
"Oh, yeah?  And what do you mean ' _us_ '?  I'm the one who did all the heavy lifting."  
  
"He knows I suffered right along with you, Chief. I made big sacrifices, babe."  
  
"And you did bring all that soup.  Okay, fair enough.  So, what's he bringing?"  
  
"Chorizo-stuffed Medjool dates from Avec restaurant and a Dream Team Sampler cheesecake from Eli's Bakery."  
  
"Holy, shit!  We're both going to need to put in extra time at the gym, babe."  
  
"Since, as you say, you did the heavy lifting, he's also bringing you a little something from the Field Museum."  
  
Blair's eyes widened in delight. "Awesome, what is it?"  
  
"I promised it would be a surprise. So, until then, my lips are sealed." As if to confirm, and to prevent any additional questions, Jim pulled Blair in for a long, lingering kiss.  
  
~~the end~~

**Author's Note:**

> For the detail-oriented, Avec Restaurant didn't open until 2003, but those stuffed dates sounded so awesome, I had to use them. They are on the "30 iconic Chicago foods" list described as "life-changing" dates stuffed with chorizo, wrapped with bacon, and served with piquillo pepper sauce. - from Chicago Eater


End file.
